


scratched lens and full hearts

by kogane (cybersquatt)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Puppy Love, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 20:52:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13578726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybersquatt/pseuds/kogane
Summary: Keith wears glasses, Lance is sweet, and they both might be a little in love.





	scratched lens and full hearts

**Author's Note:**

> just a lil smth to break off my writers block! nothing good tbh but its something! I wrote almost all of it in October of 2017 so if there seems like a disconnect in writing, im sorry?

The first thing Keith says to Lance when he opens the door is, “Not a word.”

Naturally, Lance says two words: “No way.”

Keith responds with a glare but the glasses perched on his nose had reduced it to little to no effect. He was sure that the wind from outside made his hair consist of pieces sticking up at weird angles. There’s a bubble of laughter floating in his lungs that he doesn’t understand of; when it spills out, it sounds something fond and soft. Lance reciprocates, bops his nose with the sound effect and all.

When Keith goes to swat his hand away from his face, Lance pulls him in, kissing his forehead. He sighs, weirdly feeling relaxed in Lance’s arms -- especially when Lance starts running, tangling his fingers in Keith long hair.

Lance giggled, smiling. “Since when did you wear glasses?” He asks, tapping the lens of his glasses. “Finally updating your 80s style to 2000s?”

Keith huffs, slightly annoyed about Lance picking at his choice of style. “I’ve always worn glasses; I have terrible vision.”

“How bad? Like reading glasses or need them all the time bad?” 

“Is there even a difference?” Keith answers, Lance shrugs.

Lance pushes Keith’s glasses up, “Well, you look cute. Why haven’t you worn them around me?” He pouts.

Keith faintly recognizes the relaxed feeling has melted into something mysteriously warm in a way he can’t describe. It melts somewhere in his body, mainly his chest but he can’t pinpoint where it exactly is. 

Keith ignores the feeling, opting for it the thought of more to be let go, “To answer your questions: all the time bad and contacts were just easier.”

Lance tugs him closer into his space, almost protecting him from the windy outside if it weren’t for his exposed back. “How?” He asks, twirling a finger in the hair that curls at his neck.

“It’s harder to do simple things,” Keith tries to explain; he tries to bury in his face in Lance’s shoulder but, of course, his glasses get in the way -- pressing against his face uncomfortably. He sighs, a part of his mind is afraid that his frames might break so he moves to hook his chin over Lance’s shoulder instead. “Like that.” He points out.

Keith can feel the way Lance’s body shakes with laughter that he tries to hide in the crook of Keith’s shoulder. He thinks they should go inside his house now but the thought of doing it in a way feels as though he’s trying to the bed early morning; he doesn’t want to get up or leave his embrace. A smile stretches easily onto his face as Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s shoulders. (He ignores how Lance leans down a bit for him -- he’s not short. Lance is just unfairly taller than him.)

Even with a chaste kiss, Keith still swallows his disappointment when they break apart, left wondering if this emotion he’s experiencing was normal in a relationship at their age. Lance leads him inside.

  
  


 

“Can I try them on?” Lance asks, settling into his seat right next to Keith. They’re watching old Disney movies on Lance’s admittedly very old TV. Although, Beauty and the Beast play as background noise.

If it wasn’t Lance, Keith would’ve been annoyed and ignored the request; but it is Lance and Keith is handing his glasses over. (He’s embarrassingly weak.) Lance immediately starts squinting as if he’s staring into harsh light. It feels like it too, in a way; you get used to it after a few weeks of constant headaches.

Lance’s carelessly holding of his already loose frames threatens Keith about three heart attacks. Although, it’s Keith’s fault to why it’s so loose from all the times he’s fallen asleep with them on. The frame is sea green and lens scratched up but Keith admits to himself that Lance looks good in them. Even when he scrunches up his face probably from how blurry his vision is now.

“Dude,” Lance holds the sides of his glasses with his fingertips, moving them in and out of his vision. “I love you but your vision is terrible.”

An unexpected laugh leaves his lungs, surprising them both. Heat rises to his face, raising a hand to cover his mouth to suppress the sound and Lance smiles fondly at him.

“Yeah, I know. I had to pay extra to thin them out because they were so thick.” Keith tries to sound deadpan. The effect ruined from him rubbing his face when the muscles start to hurt from smiling.

Lance laughs, giving back his glasses. “That’s great, that’s great.” 

“Why didn't you wear your contacts today?” Lance asks.

He leans into Keith’s space, his warmth almost overwhelming. He breathes in and tries to watch the movie. Keith swears that Lance will be the end of him when he decides to link their hands loosely together.

The movie plays, music playing distantly in Keith's ears.

Keith has never felt like this; this carefree and giddiness. His chest feels too open, too full, too much. Keith doesn't know what falling in love exactly feels like, the definitions are always too vague but he thinks this feels pretty damn close. He welcomes the feeling, smiling and all. He presses his face against Lance’s shoulder, his glasses forgotten on his lap. Lance takes it as an invitation to wrap his arm around Keith's waist, reattaching their hands once again.

“Just felt like it.” 

His hand curls around Lance’s -- he holds on.


End file.
